anon

That's me started then - off into the blogosphere and within a short space of time started getting tweets on my first post - very exciting and a real boost to my confidence and the idea that this lark isn't just some weird compulsion without any real point to it.

And then there was a tweet about whether the blog was intended to be anonymous - a very valid question and the person who posed it was willing to delete tweets if I had made a mistake in my blog settings - a kindness many might not have offered.

I had thought about it, the sharp, secret and serious blogger yet to be unmasked with the silver tongue [oh dear, getting carried away], making a small dent in the world of 'lady blogging'. I thought about what people I know would say - would my workplace sack me, my colleagues look at me askance, my outing as quite the opinionated feminist result in a drying up of social invitations?

I have a role that does require careful thought - director for a charity brings with it responsibility. I am apolitical in my role and fight for people with diabetes - that is my primary role and aim. I take that seriously. I also have friends and family that probably don't want to see me fireballed by trolls who aren't keen on my views.

But I also thought about why I wanted to blog at all. Well, the 'about the burd' section of said burd's blog contains a line - "So here we are, a year on, and still a shortage of burdz on the Scottish blogosphere casting their beady eyes over all things political, topical, economic and social. Hey ho.". It chimed with me - because I felt that same shortage of voice - not just in the blogosphere but in other arenas too. And I have spent my fair share of airtime at work, at home, or over a glass of wine, decrying the parlous state of female affairs despite how far we are told we have come. As a female in a senior management role I also feel a responsibility - I can't quite define it but I feel it.

Being 'anon' would bring a certain amount of freedom - I could say what I like. My typos and mispellings would not haunt me. My gauche attempt at writing with meaning could be swaddled in the knowledge that the two or three internet surfers that happened across it would not know it was me.

I think it is an entirely valid position to take. It is valid if you are oppressed and fear further admonition through speaking out. Many would argue women still fit this category in many ways. But for me I cannot occupy it. Voices of all types and genders, race and social class, are drowned out by the inequality and unfairness in our society, in our world. If I can't be open - white, educated, in employment, the fruits of being born in the first world bestowed upon me - what does that say? It says that it is time to speak out. Politely but firmly. And without losing my job [did I just dissemble?].

I was and am inspired by strong women and the men who were and are strong enough to know that working together is infinitely better than not. I may never be one of those women but if I can catch a coat tail and at least be part of it and not stand by watching it that will be enough for me.

So - as they say - 'views are my own'. And thank you for reading.